


it's friday, he's in love

by Smudge



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Praise Kink, Strangers to Lovers, and both betty and jughead's patience being tested, and food, and we don't judge them for it, burger kink maybe? listen i don't judge jughead, but it's fine because betty is thirsty for that boy, consensual burger consumption, he's hungry, i feel like i should tag food as foreplay?, i mean what i'm saying is there's smut, listen sometimes people talk to squirrels, so jughead is not impressed, the farm is a writers retreat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smudge/pseuds/Smudge
Summary: “Hello,” she says, leaning a little closer to him, bringing her other hand around and setting something in front of him. “I’m Betty.”Seeing a huge blueberry muffin sitting in front of him, he forgets his manners and takes a large bite before mumbling, “I’m Jughead.”“Nice to meet you, Jughead.”Nodding back at her, he stuffs another bite in his mouth, wondering if he died overnight and heaven is where beautiful girls offer you baked goods and if so, he’s not mad at the thought.Or, Jughead gets stuck and Betty is willing, and ready, to entertain him.





	it's friday, he's in love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jandjsalmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jandjsalmon/gifts).



> Hello and welcome to my madness! 
> 
> So, obvs this is what it is. I have no excuses. I pre-apologize for any and all absurdity and nonsense you find below. 
> 
> **This has only been edited by me right now, I'll fix it when Maria gets a chance to go to town on it, so excuse the boo-boos I missed.**

“What,” Jughead says, a low hiss into his now contraband phone, “the actual fuck, Archie?!”

_“What’s wrong?”_

“Do you know what you signed me up for with this writing retreat?”

 _“Yeah, it was your Christmas gift, remember? Ronnie helped me with it,”_ Archie answers, sounding confused. _“She said she thought you’d like it.”_

Jughead lets his forehead bounce against the wall in the eerily quiet hallway as he sighs. “Fucking Veronica Lodge.”

_“Hey-”_

“This is a prison, Arch. They wanted to take my phone! I lied and said I left it at home because after reading the rules, I’m calling an Uber and getting the fuck out of here-”

_“Rules?”_

“No phones, no drugs or alcohol, no fraternizing-”

_“Fraternizing?”_

“Sex, Archie. As if I want to stick my dick in some girl who smells like patchouli anyway-”

Archie’s laughing interrupts him. _“Jug-”_

“And the worst part, Archie, is the food! No meat. They want me to get closer to the earth or some stupid-”

“Excuse me, sir,” he hears, cutting him off, “I’m going to have to take your phone for the duration of the retreat.”

Turning around, he grimaces as an overly smiley redhead holds her hand out for his phone.

“Archie,” he starts, looking at the woman with barely contained frustration, “you better save me or I’m going to tell everyone about fifth grade and how you wet the bed after a scary movie marathon.”

He can’t hear the response as he ends the call and hands over his hope of an easy escape route with a pained smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” the woman says in a clipped tone, spinning around and gesturing for him to follow her.

“Yeah,” he mutters, bending to grab the bag he’d left by his feet, “no problem. It’s not like I was using that or anything.”

The woman, dressed in all white and holding a clipboard gives him another tight smile as she ushers him into a room with a queen sized bed. The decor is all white, he notes as he barely holds back a sarcastic snort.

“Not worried about stains, are you?” he asks, setting his duffel down on the white chair next to the bed that is also covered in white fabric down to the bright white sheets and pillows. “Scared of color here or what?”

“White is all of the colors, Mr. Jones,” she replies in a chirpy voice that makes him want to jump on the bed in his dirty boots until the robotic look plastered on her face falls off and he can prove if she’s truly human or not.

“Is that right?” he asks knowing he won’t get a straight answer anyway, not having enough information to know if that’s actually true or not.

“Here at The Farm, we want everyone to be inspired and what’s better than a clean canvas to think in?”

Jughead doesn’t hesitate. “Cheeseburgers and orgasms?”

The woman, whose name tag he finally notices says Evelyn, gives him another tight smile. The kind someone in customer service gives when they’re about to jump over the counter and start throwing punches at the next person who asks for the manager. Jughead swallows his apprehension down at her look. He’s not ashamed to admit he’s worried Evelyn is the kind of woman who smothers people in their sleep when they’ve pissed her off.

“So, to go over the rules again-”

“Let me stop you right there,” Jughead interjects. “I have no intention of staying past tonight, okay? This is not what I signed up for.”

Pursing her lips, Evelyn makes a faux sympathetic sound. “You took the train up here, right?”

Wary, Jughead nods.

“Well, Mr. Jones, the train only comes up once a week on Sundays.”

“Once a week?” he questions weakly, vowing to kill Archie and Veronica as soon as he gets back to the city.

“Yes. But if you’re truly set on leaving it’s only a three day walk through the mountains before you get to the next town.”

“Walk?”

“Yes, the car you took from the train station is owned by us. The next town is over the mountain and we’re too rural for Uber or taxi service.”

 _I hate you, Archie,_ he thinks as he feels his escape slipping through his fingers. _You and your evil girlfriend._

“The rules,” she says, handing him a sheet of paper, “are as follows: no phones, no drugs or alcohol, no fraternizing with staff or other retreat members. You will respect the property and all persons within it. The pool has its own set of rules posted, please respect them if you choose to utilize it. There will be no meat consumed at The Farm as we are a cruelty free resort-”

“Resort?” Jughead snorts out before he can help himself.

Continuing like she wasn’t interrupted, Evelyn points to the paper in his hands. “Meal times are at seven, noon, and six respectively. If you miss a meal, there will be healthy snacks provided in the lounge rooms. Please don’t take more than you need to satisfy your hunger.”

“Seven? As in the morning?” he asks, disbelievingly.

“That’s right,” Evelyn answers. “We like to think that the early bird catches the worm-”

“So the metaphorical bird gets to eat meat but I don’t?”

The irritated smile reappears. “As it’s now six-thirty, you’ve missed dinner so please use your map to find the lounge if you need something to hold you over until breakfast.”

With a sharp look, she leaves him alone in his room, the door almost slamming before he sees her hand stop it, letting it close softly behind her. Flopping on the bed, he lands face first with a groan. He cannot believe he’s going to be stuck here the entire week.

No meat.

No alcohol to dull the pain of no meat.

Waking up early to eat the food he doesn’t want to eat just so he survives long enough to escape.

Rolling over with a sigh, he pulls the paper she’d handed him closer, seeing the map on the back of it. If he fills his pockets with whatever he can, he figures he can find somewhere quiet to sit outside while the sun is still up and hopefully a new plan to leave this godforsaken place will come to him.

Accepting defeat for at least the night, he gets up and makes his way to the lounge, only getting lost once. Stepping into the room, he sees tables and sofas set up everywhere with a long table at the back of the room with what he’s pretty sure is the food.

Walking quietly over, he avoids all eye contact with people in the room, even when they look up and smile benignly at him. Anyone willingly here by choice is suspect in his mind he decides as he takes in the offerings laid out on the table.

It’s an array of healthy choices he sees with disappointment. Not a twinkie or cupcake in sight among the bowls of nuts and dried fruit.

 _Trail mix_ , he thinks victoriously before seeing there are no candies of any kind in it. What kind of monsters took out the only reason people actually eat trail mix? Head falling in disappointment, he winces as he bypasses the stuff he can’t identify or pronounce before randomly grabbing a handful of peanuts and stuffing them into his pocket. Considering some almonds before he leaves, he decides not to chance it. Almonds sound _too_ healthy when they’re not covered in chocolate and coconut.

Ignoring everyone again as he morosely walks back out and into the hallway, he consults his map again to see how to get outside when he sees a spot he thinks might have benches he can go feel sorry for himself on, he heads out, hoping not to get lost this time.

By the time he makes his way outside and to the benches he can tell the sun is getting ready to set and internally groans at spending the next twelve hours in his overly white and sterile room with nothing but his brain to keep him company.

The twitching of the bush behind him distracts him, startling him out of his thoughts. Looking to the side, he sees the bushy brown tail of a squirrel peeking at him.

“I bet you love it here,” he tells the little rodent. “Nothing but fresh air and nuts. Oh, and of course, the food.”

The squirrel jumps on the bench next to him, going straight for his pocket, making Jughead laugh.

“Wow, you’re as bold as the city squirrels. Alright then, here,” he says, digging in his pocket and bringing out a couple of peanuts to give to him. The squirrel immediately starts stuffing one in his mouth as it looks up at Jughead inquisitively.

“So, come here often?” he asks, leaning back on the bench. “That wasn’t a pick up line, I promise. Though I did practice once on my best friend with great success. But, just between you and me, he’s pretty easy.”

A light and airy giggle floats through the air, distracting him from the squirrel who was already starting to eat the second peanut. Twisting, he looks to either side of him and then behind, seeing nothing but the back of a retreating figure with a blonde ponytail.

Sighing at missing her face but thrilled with the view regardless, he keeps handing peanuts to his new furry friend until they’ve both finished their snack and the sun was sinking past the mountains, signaling it was time to go back to his room.

 

* * *

 

The fact that he makes it to breakfast the next day is a miracle in and of itself he admits to himself as he slides into an empty table near a back corner of the dining room. Head down on the table, his arms are wrapped around his stomach in a self soothing manner because he’s half convinced he’s dying of starvation.

Perking up at the sight of plates of food being carried out by more people dressed in all white, he still only lifts his head when he hears a cheery “Good morning!” with the sound of a plate hitting the table next to his head.

Sitting up straight, he pulls the food closer before he fully takes it in. Recoiling in horror, he almost pushes it off the table before he identifies it as mostly vegetables.

“Excuse me,” he says, tapping the person who’d dropped the food off.

“Yes?”

“What in the name of all that’s holy is this?” Jughead asks, horrified at the alarming amount of green on his plate.

The person smiles at him widely, clasping their hands in front of them. “It’s avocado toast with a sauteed kale and tomato egg-free omelette. Looks wonderful, doesn’t it?”

“Have I offended you in some way?”

“I’m sorry?”

“This is,” he starts, gesturing to the whole offensive plate, “cooked salad and guacamole ingredients instead of actual breakfast foods.”

“Actual breakfast foods?”

“Pancakes! Muffins. Bagels. I will sell you my soul right now for a bagel-” he stops, checking the name tag of the staff member, “-Ben. And my kingdom for some cream cheese and coffee-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t allow caffeine or dairy here.”

“No coffee?” Jughead asks, voice hitting a level of strained he’s not sure he’s ever felt before. “You’re telling me along with the meatless blasphemy on the good and decent carnivores who pay to come here, you withhold caffeine as well?”

“The rules state no drugs or alcohol-”

“Coffee is not a drug, Ben. Coffee is a lifesource. Coffee is why humanity hasn’t collapsed in on itself, Ben. Coffee keeps people nice. It keeps me nice. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

Ben looks nervously around, wringing his fingers in distress and Jughead feels bad for taking his bad mood out on him.

“Listen, it’s fine,” Jughead assures, picking up his fork and stabbing a tomato, holding it up where Ben can see it with a pained smile. “It’s fine. You can go.”

Darting off as quickly as he can, Ben heads back the way he came, leaving Jughead to mourn his freedom, sanity, and stomach.

Frowning at the tomato, he’s contemplating eating what he can just to stay alive when an elegant and pale hand reaches into his line of sight, dropping off a handful of peanuts.

He feels, more than sees, a girl sit next to him. Turning his head, he takes in a girl he can’t decide is as beautiful as he thinks she is or he’s just gone delirious from hunger and hallucinating things he’d enjoy eating.

Clearing his throat, he meets her eyes and is taken slightly back by her genuine smile. “Hello.”

“Hello,” she says, leaning a little closer to him, bringing her other hand around and setting something in front of him. “I’m Betty.”

Seeing a huge blueberry muffin sitting in front of him, he forgets his manners and takes a large bite before mumbling, “I’m Jughead.”

“Nice to meet you, Jughead.”

Nodding back at her, he stuffs another bite in his mouth, wondering if he died overnight and heaven is where beautiful girls offer you baked goods and if so, he’s not mad at the thought.

Swallowing, he wipes his chin to make sure there’s no crumbs and turns to her. “Where’d the contraband muffin come from?”

“I sneak them in every year-”

“You come here every year?!”

“My sister lives here with the family who runs the retreat so I come up to see my niece and nephew every summer.”

“It’s not Evelyn, right? Because I think I already made her hit list-”

“Oh you have,” Betty interrupts, biting her lip as she leans even closer, “There’s already been quite a bit of talk about you in the staff rooms, Mr. Jones.”

“You knew my name?”

Nodding, she smiles at him again. “That and I wanted to know who the definitely out of place guy talking to squirrels was so I asked Polly-”

“Polly?”

“My sister, who then asked Evelyn because she was quietly seething about the rebel retreat member who was responsible for making her do her calming breathing.”

“Hence the peanuts,” he jokes lamely, gesturing to the little pile of nuts she’d set next to his plate.

“Hence the nuts.”

“Sounds dirtier when you say it,” he says without thinking, the flush creeping up his face the second he realizes what he’d implied.

Giggling, Betty just picks up a peanut and pops it in her mouth with a wink, chewing slowly as she takes him in.

 

* * *

 

And that’s how it starts, on Monday morning he meets Betty where she sneaks him a muffin and shares the stash of instant coffee in her room. He thinks about asking to use her laptop to find a way off the resort but he abandons that idea when she turns big green eyes on him, asking him about his writing and did he bring any with him?

Regretting the decision to try and get back to his roots, writing longhand with just a handful of notebooks he’d hoped would inspire him, he takes her to his room to show her the pathetic doodles he’d made on the train ride up the mountain.

She’s impressed anyway and he feels the flutter of something starting low in his stomach at the way she looks stretched out on his bed.

Tuesday she shows up after lunch wearing a pink and white bathing suit, making the memory of whatever it was he forced himself to eat for lunch disappear. They spend hours laying in the sun and splashing each other before being shushed by an annoyed looking Evelyn, citing their need to remain quiet for the other retreat guests. Laughing and imitating Evelyn’s pinched features, they forget about dinner and Betty sneaks him into her room where she keeps her emergency rations of beef jerky and shows him a bag full of sodas.

He almost kisses her on Wednesday. He wants to pretend it’s because she somehow made a trade with some of the more relaxed staff members and got them both a candy bar but he knows better than that, he just wants to kiss her.

Thursday, he bites his lip during a dinner of tofu and sadness when he feels Betty’s knees brushing against his leg repeatedly, her soft looks at him under her lashes pushing him to do something, _anything,_ but her sister pulls her away right after they eat, citing Betty’s earlier promise of babysitting.

It’s that night he finally gives in and makes use of the reliable hot water and shower with a seat as he thinks about Betty and the curve of her neck, the pink of her cheeks, and the swells of her breasts.

Friday, Jughead swears he’s in love when she shows up at five in the afternoon with a greasy bag smelling suspiciously of burgers. Lying to himself about his level of disappointment when he hadn’t seen her in the dining room at lunch or at the pool earlier in the day, he smiles at her, opening the door for her to come in.

“What’s that?” he asks, stomach growling at just the hint of a greasy burger with what he hopes is also cheese smushed into a toasted bun. Making sure the door is closed and locked behind him, he turns to her with hope written all over his face.

“I think you know,” she whispers, setting the bag down on the desk in the room, turning to him with a glint in her eye.

“Do I?”

“Mmhmm,” Betty hums out, stepping closer to him, pushing him back against the door, the doorknob hitting his hip, making him grunt in surprise.

“Can I see?”

Shaking her head, Betty’s hands run up his chest as she keeps him still. “Do you deserve it?”

“I feel like if I say yes, that’s the wrong answer.”

“What’s a girl gotta do, Jug, to get you to kiss her? Does she have to wear bathing suits and invite you to her room for days? I’m guessing no since that didn’t work. Does she have to almost start to feel you up under a dinner table? I know we were interrupted but you’ve been keeping me waiting, Jughead.”

“Waiting?”

“Since Monday. So this is my last ditch effort. I figure if a bacon double cheeseburger-”

“Bacon?” Jughead interrupts, stepping forward and cupping her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers in a fast kiss. “Did you say bacon?”

Betty’s laughing against his mouth as he goes back in for another kiss, his fingers stroking along the curve of her jaw, his other hand slipping up into her hair and tilting her head back as he deepens the kiss, the taste of what he knows is Betty’s favorite herbal tea and the flavor of what he thinks is simply her hitting all of his senses at once. The soft glide of her tongue along his makes him pull her in closer, pressing his hips against her as she twists her fingers into his t-shirt.

Sliding his hands down her sides, he grabs the backs of her thighs, lifting her up as she wraps her legs around his waist. The short walk to the bed almost proves to be a problem when he almost trips on the sandals she’d already kicked off but he barely stumbles, his grip tightening on her legs as she nips her way across his throat, making him take a deep breath so he can focus on not dropping her.

Laying her down on the bed is something he thinks might be one of the best moments of his life if he didn’t know that it was about to get even better. She’s holding onto his shirt at the back and pulling it with her as she stretches her arms over her head, tugging it off of him and throwing it to the side.

He hears her contented sigh, making him smirk at her. “Like that, do you?”

Betty only nods as she reaches for the belt on his jeans, pulling at it. “Off.”

“Bossy girl,” he says, amused. Undoing the belt and button below it, he catches her eye as he unzips his pants, letting them hang open as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, yanking it upward as she shimmies it off, letting it hit the floor on top of his.

The sight of her looking up at him in nothing but a pale blue lacy bra and little cotton shorts makes his breath hitch and he leans down to kiss her once more. Trailing his tongue across her collarbone, he places a biting kiss between her breasts, hands coming up to cup the weight of them in his palms. Breathing out against her skin at the low moan she releases he pushes his hips further into hers, her legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing.

Pushing back, he sits on his knees and slips his fingers under the straps of her bra, sliding them off her shoulders as he sees her eyes are closed, back arching.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” he commands.

Betty’s eyes pop open and she looks as breathless as he feels.

“Do you like that?” he asks, slipping the straps further down her arms. “Me telling you what to do?”

Nodding silently, she stares at him with wide, eager eyes.

“What about if I tell you how beautiful you are?”

Biting her lip, Betty nods again.

“And what if, “ he says, sitting upright and running his hands up her thighs until they slide under the edge of her shorts, “I tell you to touch yourself, would you listen to me?”

Jughead can see the rise and fall of her chest increasing as her breathing quickens but he smiles, seeing her hands come up and cup her breasts, squeezing them gently as she keeps her eyes on him.

“What a good girl you are,” he tells her, watching her back arch again as her thumbs brush over her nipples. “So pretty.”

“Please,” she murmurs, her head falling to the side.

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

“Does my sweet girl want me to touch her?”

“Yes,” she almost hisses, pushing her hips up.

Smacking a slap on her thigh before pressing her legs down and holding onto them, he fights a laugh at her petulance. “Is this what good girls do? Because I don’t think so.”

“I’m good,” she says with a pout. “I can be _so_ good.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she pushes her hips up against him once more.

“You naughty thing,” he declares, feigning disappointment. Keeping his palms on her inner thighs as he pushes them up, he settles himself so she can feel the jut of his cock against her through the fabric of his boxers but can’t get closer than he allows.

The whine that comes out of her is as endearing as it is entertaining to him.

“Jug-”

“What did I say? Wait, no. What did you say?”

“That I could be good.”

“And are you being good?”

“No.”

“Exactly,” he says, fingers tightening against the skin of her leg before relaxing and moving up the caress the crease of her thigh. “Now relax. I want you to relax and keep touching those beautiful breasts for me, okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he tells her, watching her hands move lightly over her chest. “Look at you, following directions so well.”

Slipping his fingers under further, he stops after coming into contact with just bare skin. “Did you do this for me?”

The pink that crosses her cheeks as she meets his eyes again tells him she did but he waits for her to answer him anyway.

“Yes.”

He hums out his appreciation as he slips a finger through her folds, finding her already wet. Watching her squirm at the contact, he slides a finger into her, making sure his thumb hits her clit, the instant effect making her moan and jump much to his satisfaction.

“Take off your bra,” he demands, sighing at the sight of her breasts once she’s complied, the blue material easily tossed to the side. “Beautiful.”

She whines when he moves his hands to her hips, the muscles in her thighs clenching as if she could keep him in place but a pointed look quiets her. Reaching for the waistband of her shorts, he slides them off her legs before standing up to kick his own pants off, glad for the decision not to wear shoes in his room.

Crawling back onto the bed, he maneuvered himself between her thighs, pushing them apart to keep her from closing them around his ears. The first swipe of his tongue against her clit makes her jerk and arch her back. The second makes her moan his name loudly into the room. The third makes her hand twist into his hair, legs straining as she tries to keep her composure.

Lightly sucking her on her clit, he slides a finger back into her, the combination causing her to pant his name and pull his hair a little harder than he expected her to. Spurred on by her reaction, he adds a second finger, moving them faster as he flicks his tongue against her.

Losing track of time, he feels like it’s only seconds before her legs are shaking and she’s crying out as she comes, her hips rolling as her toes flex into the skin of his sides.

Moving back to his knees, he wipes his chin as he smiles down at her, the sheen of sweat doing something to the male part of him that’s satisfied by seeing his girl messy and wet.

“I know, right?” he asks smugly, making her laugh breathlessly. “You come so good for me, too.”

“Jug,” she says, panting. “There’s condoms in that burger bag if you’re interested.”

Leaning over her and kissing her quickly, he bolts back off the bed to grab the bag and find the box of condoms before setting the bag next to the bed. “That has to be the most perfect bag in existence right now.”

Opening the box, he takes out a condom and rips it, taking it out as he crawls back between her legs. Rolling it down over his cock, he looks up to catch Betty’s eye before lining himself up and sinking into her, a barely muffled groan escaping him as he rests his head into the curve of her neck.

Thrusting in and out of her, he moves his arms around and under Betty, holding her to him. Her legs wrapped around his hips keep pushing him back into her, her nails digging into his shoulders as his rhythm speeds up.

Biting her neck without thinking as he feels the heat and pleasure build up in his abdomen, her breathy call of his name and the sweet smell of her skin start to send him over the edge, making him jerk hard into her hips as he comes. A muttered fuck into her skin as he feels her hands start to stroke his hair keeps him centered as he tries to calm his breathing.

Rolling off of her and throwing the condom into the bedside trash he then pulls her close to him, kissing her forehead, murmuring how beautiful she is, how wonderful she is, how lucky he is to know her all while thinking about what was going to happen on Sunday when he leaves.

“This is probably a bad time to ask but what about when we leave?” he asks, looking forlorn.

Betty’s eyes open and she looks up at him, confused. “Jughead, were you not listening when I told you we’re taking the same train on Sunday?”

“When did you tell me that?”

“Thursday at dinner,” she informs him, narrowing her eyes.

Relieved, he laughs, pulling her even closer than before. “When you were feeling up my leg and distracting me the whole time?”

Rolling her eyes at him, she reaches across him for the bag on the table. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Where’d you get those anyway? Evelyn said there was nothing around here.”

Laughing, Betty hands him a wrapped burger and he pretends to try not to rip into it immediately without waiting for Betty to start eating hers. “You fell for that? There’s a town just a few miles away. I hitched a ride with my sister earlier and stopped at a diner and drugstore.”

“I knew she was evil,” he mumbles around a bite of what he thinks is the most satisfying burger he’s ever had, even if it was cold. “Joke’s on her though.”

“Why’s that?”

“I told her cheeseburgers and orgasms were better than anything this place had to offer.”

 

* * *

 

Six months later, as he sits with Betty at Archie’s on Christmas Day, he’s telling her how much he loves her when he feels a paper hit him in the forehead.

“What the hell, Jug?”

“It’s your gift, Arch,” he replies, leaning back on the sofa, bringing Betty with him so he can keep his arms wrapped around her. “A week at The Farm, it’s a special songwriters retreat I suggested. I think you’ll really like it, Betty helped me pick it out.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Who knew that what the power of a burger could do, am I right? Wow, it's just a burger, Jughead. 
> 
> Anyways, this is for the ever-lovely jandjsalmon who basically kickstarted this entire idea into existence. Lie to me if you hate it, friend, I'm soft. 
> 
> But I also hope the rest of you liked it! Also, please tell me if so because I'm weak and feed off that sort of thing. Mostly. I also enjoy fruit salad and marshmallows for vitamins. 
> 
> Pretty sure marshmallows have all your daily needs so, you know, I should be good to go, right? Right. 
> 
> But, and just so you know it's me and not my evil doppelganger sent to destroy me, besos to you all! Besos to you so hard it makes you breathless. Mmhmm. I said it. 
> 
> As always, you can [tumble](https://thetaoofbetty.tumblr.com/) with me if you want.


End file.
